Dating In The Dark
by Radiorox
Summary: Ever since they met, Harm and Mac’s chemistry has been undeniable. Had they been dating without realizing it?
1. Interuptions

FF: Dating In The Dark.

Summary: Ever since they met, Harm and Mac's chemistry has been undeniable. Spending so much time together, something's got to give. Had they been dating without realizing it?  
Author: Jackie (Aka: Radiorox)

AN: The suggestion has been posed that Harm and Mac were dating without realizing that they were. So, I shall delve a little more into that subject. As of late, I'm in the post "Adrift" or "Season 3" mood for stories. I'm trying to get over my hang-ups with seasons 9 and 10. Hard to do, I know.

BTW – Harm and Mac are here in Miami. Not sure what Harm's up to but Mac opened up a supermarket near my Dad's house. It's a small place but, it has decent Cuban coffee.

So here we go!

Enjoy!

Jackie

**Chapter 1 – Interuption.**

There were much easier jobs out there, ones that didn't require so much energy and research. Jobs that offered normal, nine-to-five hours; lengthy vacations, no uniforms or silly regulations. But then, that's not what Sarah MacKenzie was looking for. She very well knew that after the chaotic nature of her teenage years her life needed stability. It was why she remained in the Marines and done so well she was recommended for OCS. Mac thrived in the environment and was extremely protective of the military and all of those that sought to destroy their purpose.

Still, there were times that it would have been better to deal with civilians and not military secrets. Her current case was one of those 'classified' types – with an outcome that would not matter to anyone but the accused. The public could never and would never know the depths of military sacrifice. In essence, she was defending a martyr – Marine Major Roger Ozols, on a trial for a crime he _should have_ committed.

Major Ozols had discovered that Jake Anderson, a Private under his command, had been selling cocaine and heroin to local high school students. Several of the students had been given a free taste of cocaine, a strategy that many pushers used in order to get kids hooked. Tragically, one of those recipients had thoughtlessly mixed the drug along with cold medicine; the mixture causing a violent overdose that the teen could not recover from. The victim had been Ozols' sixteen year old daughter, Amanda. In a violent rage, the Major raced to the brig where Private Anderson was held and shot the enlisted man five times. He would die from blood loss before any medic could arrive.

Though Mac abhorred senseless deaths, there was something about this case that was forcing her to fight for Major Ozols. He did the one thing that so many people wished they could do. There were other ways around it, like a trial that would have surely locked Anderson up for the rest of his life. Then again, trials could be botched and a certain victory for the family could have been difficult to secure – though Anderson would have been found guilty for possession, there was little concrete evidence that linked him with the cocaine Amanda overdosed on.

"_Colonel, ma'am, I know some people will find what I did to be irrational and despicable but, I couldn't let Private Anderson get away with what he did to my daughter." _The Major had told Mac after sitting with him for no more than two minutes. She had gone to the interview with a certain belief and came out believing something else entirely. As irrational or despicable as the crime had been, it had to be done. Now, all she had to do was find a way to keep Major Ozols far away from the death penalty.

Mac took a deep breath and placed her pen down on the table. She rolled her head one way and then the other, trying to work out a kink that had been driving her crazy since mid-day. "Damnit." She cursed and pressed her hand to the back of her neck only to have someone else's hand brush hers away.

"Here, let me." Harm said as he placed a book he'd been searching for on the table next to Mac's research. He'd been in the library for the better part of an hour, searching for a law book that had been seriously misplaced. Common sense told him to abandon the search but, he wanted to get a head start on the case and have some details jotted down before his began on Monday.

That's when he'd discovered Mac seated with several books strewn in front of her on the conference table. Her head was down, reading information and then quickly taking notes. He'd heard her sigh from time to time and her shoulders slumped over, a sign of the gargantuan task she'd been given. Harm was thankful he wasn't prosecuting this one – cold blooded murderer or not, he had a soft spot for Ozols' plight.

Harm was always fascinated in watching her work, especially when she didn't know he was looking. Mac had the cutest expression when she concentrated; brow furled slightly, lips pursed. She would often resort to small, victorious, pump fists when she scored a big piece of info. He was sure she wasn't aware of her own actions, which is why they were so cute to begin with.

When he saw her stretching, his body had a mind of its own, carrying him to her. Before he could stop himself, one of his hands had already started massaging her neck; the other hand was soon to join.

Mac would have been startled but, she barely had the chance to. The moment he touched her, she became putty in his hands; all sense of resistance gone. Instead, she took a breath and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax and drift away. Harm had always had the magic touch when it came to her; his fingers finding certain spots and kneading until the pain went away. It made her feel slightly drunk and euphoric. "Don't stop." She said in a soft, breathless voice.

"I won't." Harm wanted to ask her to slip out of her jacket and unbutton the collar of her blouse but, he knew how inappropriate that would be. They were still in the office, still bound by military rules and professionalism. Besides, someone could walk in and then. . .

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." The sound of the Admiral's gruff voice snapped the two officers to attention. Mac stifled a groan as she banged her knee against the bottom of the desk. She nearly fell back and, as a result, Harm held her by the arms and helped her stand. All it did was make a bad situation look worse. "Is there something I should know?"

Mac pushed away from him and then opened her mouth to say something but, it was Harm who decided to save face. "No, sir. The Colonel has a headache and I was just trying to work some of the kinks out of her neck."

Chegwidden folded his arms across his chest and leveled the pair with a look that would make them combustible. "I honestly could care less what you two do in your private lives but, keep the touchy feely _out_ of _my_ department."

"Aye sir." "Yes, sir." They replied simultaneously and remained at attention until their commanding officer stepped out of the conference room muttering something about needing a chaperone.

Harm cleared his throat and nervously looked down at Mac. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault. At least he didn't give us a good dressing down." She expected it, what with the way she was moaning as if they'd. . . "Anyway," She cleared her throat and continued, " I'm gonna wrap up for the night. This case is making my head spin."

"Wanna grab some dinner?" He asked. They'd been doing that a lot lately – going to dinner. It was sometimes at his place, sometimes at hers but, for the last five Friday's they'd gone out to dinner together. Just the two of them, in uniform, very casual and platonic but, it had become a ritual of sorts; renewed after several years of a broadening divide between them. "I need to eat something soon. Skipped lunch and my blood sugar is taking a nose dive."

Mac wasn't sure if it was the prospect of food or Harm's company but, she was eager to join and leave behind her current workload. The hearing wouldn't begin until Wednesday and she had a whole weekend to find loop holes in Sturgis' case. "Dinner sounds great. Where to this time?"

"Your choice, I picked last week, remember?"

"True." That was correct, he had chosen last week and taken her to the sushi place in Georgetown. The week before that, it was Pizza. Today, though, Mac was in the mood for artery clogging comfort food. "Well, partner, I think it's about time we visit the greasy spoon." AKA: DC's American City Diner. To her surprise, he didn't protest.


	2. Dinner at a Diner

**Thanks for the reviews guys!!  
Here's another chappie. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

Chapter 2 – Dinner at a Diner

The consummate gentleman, Harm helped Mac out of her coat and hung it, along with his on the hooks attached to the booths. Although diner food was not his favorite fare, he had to admit that the shakes were out of this world. American City offered some of the best comfort foods, something Mac obviously needed. "So, do you need help with the case? On the way over I got a call, the Scottsdale trial is getting directed over to the San Diego office."

Mac raised a brow, surprised at the turn of events. Though Harm had no prayer in winning, it was odd to take the case away from the person who'd been on it from the beginning. "Lemme guess, the commanding officer interfered?"

Harm shrugged. "Probably. Scottsdale and I were having trouble getting along. He didn't think I was doing things in his best interest." Airman David Scottsdale was a Navy pilot who had been accused of stealing parts off of Tomcats while on deployment. He had been caught red handed and still had the gal to feign innocence. "I know we have to be impartial but, all I can think of was my plane malfunctioning. He was onboard at the same time I did my quals and if he'd had anything to do with it. . ." Harm hadn't really gotten over the dip into the Atlantic in May and although he'd passed physicals and qualifications since, it was difficult to forget about the accident. It would take a while, he knew from experience. ". . .I just _can't_ be impartial. I tried."

Reaching across the small table, Mac placed a hand over his. "Hey, it's alright to feel that way."

"I know, Mac. But, I can't let that interfere with my job." He'd usually been up to the challenge of defending service members who were guilty. Often enough, pulling a rabbit out of his hat in the nick of time, he'd managed to win even some of his more impossible cases. However, this time, Harm just couldn't keep his façade in place. "I keep having nightmares that I'm still out there. . .drowning." He didn't want to seem so melancholic but, it was the truth. There were times when he'd wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Cases likes these, where persons were being so deliberately stupid, absolutely upset him. "It was the worst night of my life."

_Mine too._ She wanted to say but, refrained from divulging the horrors of that night and how she'd broken down to a shell of a woman. Now, they just had to continue to put the pieces back together, as they'd been doing since the JAG-A-Thon. She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled when he turned his palm over and took her hand in his. It was a simple gesture, something that friends did, just like hugging – which they'd been doing more often as well. "Anytime you wanna talk, I'm just a phone call away."

"Thanks, Mac." He held onto her hand for a few seconds more, reluctantly to release her. Harm's eyes sought hers and he held the gaze with a soft intensity. That had been happening a lot as well, the silent conversations that made his heart race a little and his palms sweat. They were part of their past lives as well but, never with such overwhelming emotions. He supposed it was because they were both free of commitment – as they had been when they first met. Harm found that he rather liked this renewed dynamic, it made it easier to be around her without having to sensor all of his thoughts or dance around situations. Oh, they were still dancing alright but, this time; it was to the same tune.

However, he still wasn't quite sure of what to do next. He knew that he loved her, wanted her more than he had any other woman in his life but, they were starting at the beginning. That meant that they were taking it slow. Damnit, sometimes he wished there were an idiot's guide to such things. Maybe a manual to figuring out Mac?

Mac had noticed a change in him after the accident and her return from the Indian Ocean. She had wanted them to start at the beginning and, they had but, unlike the first time, they actually trusted each other now. Harm was more adept to telling her feelings he wouldn't have before and she didn't feel like running anymore. They were also intimate now – not in the sexual sense but, touches that once were deemed off-limits, were now common. The only problem was that the intensity of her want for him had grown tenfold. She knew, in theory, that he wanted her. But, she wasn't ready to dive into a relationship so soon after the dissolution of her engagement to Mic. This time, she needed to make sure that _both_ of their hearts were in it. Wanting was one thing – loving was another.

"I'll start off with a Strawberry milkshake." She heard Harm say and his hand slipped out of hers in order to take the menu that their waitress had brought.

"I'll have one too." Mac said enthusiastically and then dived into the menu as if nothing had occurred between her and Harm. Technically, nothing had happened, just a shared intense gaze that made her remember an incredibly erotic dream she'd had with him two nights prior. That damned dream had kept her up for the last two nights as she fought her consciousness in order to return into that dream world. Sighing, she tried to ignore him even thought she felt his eyes still on her.

Harm watched her with interest, smiling at how thoroughly she perused the menu. He knew her well enough to know that there was one item on the list that she would always order – chicken fried steak. It was an excellent dish, one that he'd tasted some weeks ago and was actually craving. No, he wasn't always a health food junkie; keeping his weight down had more to do with his knee problems sustained from the ramp strike than anything else. "You always do the same thing even though you know you want the chicken fried steak."

She eyed him over the top of the menu. "I might want something different this time."

"_I'll_ have the chicken fried steak." He told the waitress once she'd returned back with their shakes.

Mac stared at him for a moment, perplexed that he was actually going to partake in sizeable amount of dead cow, as he often put it. She didn't like his smug look or the smile that was attracting all females in the vicinity like moths to a flame but, she had to concede. "I'll have the same." Yes, the chicken fried steak was just _that good_. "Am I starting to rub off on you or something?"

He chuckled. "Nah, it's actually a good meal. And I am not a vegetarian, Mac, you know that."

"I do but, you normally don't eat red meat unless you cook it yourself." Not that she blamed him, at some restaurants; even the water was unhealthy for you.

He shrugged, "I decided to give it a whirl. Besides, I have some Tums at home." He took a long drink of his shake, grimacing as the cold liquid shot that familiar pain to his head. He managed to stymie the feeling by taking a swig of water. "What are you up to tomorrow?" Saturday was the only day of the week where he actually rested. Sunday mornings, he would get up around eight, go for a run, have breakfast and then finish up anything that Monday morning cases required. But, Saturday, that day was made to just relax.

"I'm taking a mental health day. Why? What did you have in mind?" She didn't find it odd that they'd spent the last three Saturday's together, rather, she welcomed the prospect of spending more, non-office time with him. The first time, they'd bumped into each other in Georgetown and decided to go shopping. She needed some casual clothing and, it turns out, he was looking for the same. The Saturday after that Mac decided to do her, bi-annual touristy thing and asked him to tag along. Last weekend, he'd express interest in the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal and its locks, so they'd ventured into the park for a few hours and then had dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Spending time together was becoming quite a norm and something that each of them were looking forward to. Some could say that they were unintentionally stalking each other.

As long as it meant spending a few hours with her, he didn't care if they were sitting side by side, on a glacier in Antarctica. "Nothing really. I just. . ." Turning to look out of the window, he spotted a poster barely clinging to the light post outside. It was advertising something called 'Utrazone', a laser tag arena that had several locations throughout DC. ". . . thought about laser tag. Ultrazone, I think it's called?"

Mac had heard about the location, as Bud had attempted to take a young AJ there only to have his son run out screaming due to the darkness and loud noises. The prospect of a simulated battle sounded quite fun; especially considering that she needed to let off a bit of steam. "That sounds pretty fun, actually. I've never been there before."

"Me neither." He confessed and breathed a sigh of relief that Mac seemed excited about the prospect. "Are you going to be on my team?"

"Good question." She furled her brow, deep in thought at what would be the best way to play the game. On the same team, they would surely crush the competition. However, on opposing teams was the better method to assess, once and for all, who the better shot was. "Opposing teams. . .That way I can kick your butt."

The proposed challenge made his heart race just a little more. "Mac. . ." He said, in that mocking tone that only brought out more of a competitive nature in her. "There's no way you're going to kick my butt." Ever the cocky lawyer and pilot, he just couldn't seem to stop himself from being baited into battles with her. He thrived off of them and, if he was honest, it was an adrenaline rush.

She gave him a knowing smile, her own ego puffing up at the thoughts of imploring one or two Marine tricks on him. "How much you wanna bet?"


	3. Tag, you're it

**Nope, haven't forgotten. Been berry busy!**

**Mistakes are my own... the next chapter will be up soon!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**CHAPTER 3 – Tag, you're it.**

Harm and Mac stood amongst a small group of teenagers. The only adults, he was a feeling a little self conscious and Mac, well, she was enjoying the purposed adventure. She glanced up at the screens above which indicated the rules of the game. It was all very basic and, she suspected, not very organized once they stepped inside of the arena.

"Okay, time to pick your teams." The pimply faced teen that ran the attraction said, giving Mac a once over that forced Harm to take deep breaths or risk beating the kid to a pulp. It's not like he'd never ogled a beautiful women but, men (of any age) staring at Mac just made him upset.

He followed Mac who tossed him a vest that have several bullseyes in the front and back, meant to mark the areas to shoot. "You're blue team, Navy. I'm red." Taking her own vest, she slipped it on and then came with one tiny problem – actually, it was more like _two_ problems. "Ugh, damnit."

Raising a brow in amusement, Harm just stared as she tried to close the latches on the front of the vest. While Mac was in shape, the two protruding parts of her anatomy could and would always pose a problem when it came to uniforms and such. It was why all of her blouses and jackets needed to be tailored. Something's just clung a little too well and military uniforms weren't supposed to look sexy. "Need some help?" He asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice but, failing miserably.

"Fine." Mac huffed and turned her back to him. "See if you can undo the straps on the back." Before his hands got to the straps, she turned briefly, pointing an accusing finger at him. "And if you so much as bring up anything close to Energizer bunnies and female Marines, I'll kill you." Mac sucked her gut in but, it did nothing to help the latches stay in place. Each time she breathed in, the set would come lose and leave the vest open in the front.

"Hmmm. . .I think I got it." Able to loosen the straps a bit, Harm reached around, encircling her body with his arms as he attached the bottom latch and then the one closest to her chest.

While he didn't touch her skin, just the nearness of him made Mac's breath catch. Trying to double check the attachment, her hand brushed his and immediately, she felt it again, that zing that was just nerve rattling. How the hell could he do this; make her feel combustible? "Thanks, Harm." What was worse is that he had no signs of feeling the same effects; which led her to believe, yet again, that her feelings were one sided. Damnit, maybe she needed therapy? Better yet, maybe _he_ needed to stop the subtle flirtation; it was making her head spin.

Harm gave her a once over, happy to notice that the vest was finally secure. He'd tempted fate by being so close to her but, then again, he was helping a friend. (And taking just a little too much pleasure from touching her.) Reaching to a rack, he grabbed a pistol with a red sticker and then attached it to the cord on Mac's vest. "We never agreed to terms."

Mac sighed, knowing that what she really wanted from him wasn't suitable for a friendly wager. Shrugging, she took the gun from him and pointed it at his chest, testing the laser mechanism on her target. "I'm not sure. Normally we'd wager dinner but, seeing as we've been picking up each other's tabs these days. . ."

"Okay, if you win, you can decide later what your prize will be." He proposed. "If I win, you go flying with me again." Harm noted how her amused expression suddenly dissipated. She looked as if someone had told her that her favorite pet had died. "Oh, c'mon, Mac. You promised me you'd go back up."

She shook her head. "I never promised anything. . .I said I'd consider it." Absentmindedly she rubbed the spot on her thigh where the poacher had shot her. The experience was a horrible one. Emotional wounds that she though had healed came back to the surface. The days spent in some Podunk hospital in the middle of Pennsylvania getting treated for a mild infection and blood loss wasn't that peachy. Neither was the dressing down that the Admiral had given the two of them once they'd rotated back to Washington. "I'm not all that fond of planes." She wasn't, it didn't matter how well trained the pilot at its controls was.

Hearing the alarm go off, signifying the start of the game, he nudged her towards the entrance marked for the red team. "Well, then, you have to make sure to beat me."

"Oh, I will." Confidence renewed, Mac slipped through the red team's entry point and quickly took a look at her surroundings. The massive room had its walls painted black and was illuminated with bright lights overhead. From what she understood, those lights would be shut off and then, their only lighting source would be black lights that reflected on space age drawings on the walls.

There were two floors, the top one accessible by two angled, swinging bridges. While Mac liked the advantage of seeing the whole arena, she saw that there were limited areas to hide, thus, exposing her to enemies. Instead, she jogged to the very end of the arena, plastering herself against the far wall, in between the various barricades that made up the playing field's nook and crannies. Glancing up and to her left, she spotted a tall, obelisk with a red striped deemed a "sentry." Each team had them strategically placed around the arena and the opposition had, approximately 10 seconds to get out of the sentries' line of sight or it would "shoot."

Each shot, whether from a sentry or a player, meant that your laser pistol would be disabled for ten seconds, rendering the person vulnerable to more attacks. Once shot, the vest and pistol would vibrate to signify the hit. The player who made the shot would get the audible appraisal, "Nice shot!" from a speaker on the pistol itself.

Harm too had noted the bridges overhead and considered an ulterior method to laying low. His 6'4" frame would seriously get noticed as he tried to find higher ground. Instead, he headed towards the middle where fiberglass barricades separated the blue from the red team. Squatting down, he peaked through the small holes in the wall, finding a few of the teens hiding on the opposite side. He'd attack them first before searching for Mac.

Seconds later, the audio came alive, thundering electronic music that he could feel in his chest. The bright lights from before had dimmed substantially and the only lighting came from the black lights which illuminated reflective paints on the walls. The place looked absolutely space aged and amazing.

Keeping low, Harm went around the barricade, sneaking up behind the teens which he promptly shot.

"Aww man!"

"No fair, you snuck up on us!" One of the girls pouted, waiting as her pistol recharged so that she could take aim at Harm. He was gone before she had the chance to shoot him.

On the rear side of the arena, Mac squatted down in a dark corner, eyes searching for Harm's unmistakably tall form. He absolutely towered above the kids that were in either of their teams and, in her mind, made the perfect target. All she had to do was stand her ground and wait.

Rounding a corner, Harm ducked down behind a barricade, nearly missing getting shot by a small, giggling boy. However, in his attempt to evade the attack, he'd inadvertedly hid close to a sentry who took aim and shot him, just thirty seconds later. "Damn." He felt his pistol vibrate and shut down for the allotted time. Seeing the sentry power up for another shot, he took off, running down a long hall before coming up on two teenaged boys. By then, his pistol had reloaded and he took two shots, both hitting his mark. "Nice shot!" His pistol exclaimed and Harm chuckled.

This idea was quite delightful, the art of battle without any actual casualties. To the left he spotted something on the floor, bright and illuminated by the black lights. He crept close to the source only to feel his vest vibrate from a direct hit. "Nice shot!" He heard a pistol exclaim and turned to find Mac standing behind him with a big grin. "Gotcha, flyboy."

A second later, she felt her own vest vibrate and turned to find a teenaged boy. "I got you!" He exclaimed and ran off as his friends came up behind him. "You can't catch me!" He shrieked, as he ducked behind a barricade.

The adults stared each other down and, as Harm's pistol recharged first, he took aim at Mac and shot. She made quite the easy target.. "Nice shot!" The pistol said again. Grinning, he stepped up closer. "Better run, Marine."

"Marine's don't run, Navy. We give chase." She raised her pistol and ran after him, taking two shots and, finally connecting on the third. Rounding a corner too quickly, she failed to see Harm attempting to hide and ran straight into him. The force made him lose his balance and ram into one of the barricades. The action sent one of the barricades into the rear wall – luckily not hitting anyone. As he fell, Harm reached to Mac for support, all that did was force her to fall with him. The pair lay in a heap on the ground, alternating between laughter and groans of pain. Chucking, she looked down at her vest which had popped open, its attachments slicing the front of her t-shirt, revealing her bra. "Oh, damn!"

Seconds later, the lights came back on and someone on the PA system was ordering all players to vacate the arena as a pair of security guards headed towards them. "I think we might be in trouble."

Trying to maintaining her dignity, Mac used the vest to cover her slight indecency as Harm helped her to her feet. "We're sorry . . .It was just. . ." She began but, was doubtful that the guards cared.

"We need to ask you to leave." The tall, burly one said while his partner tried to assess the damage. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, being adults and all."

Harm raised his hands in defense, "We weren't rough housing. My friend just bumped into me and. . ."

"Riiiight." The guard said, eyeing Mac and what was left of her shirt. "I'm sure the lady ripped the shirt off herself . . .Look, this isn't the first time we've had guests try some hanky panky in here. The kids, I can forgive but, you guys are what? Fifty?"

Mac never took offense when it came to her age. It was, after all, just a number. This time, she was livid. "Fifty? We're both in our thirties, thank you very much!" Taking the vest, she yanked it off and tossed it at the guard. "You can take this game and shove it. . .C'mon Harm!" She grabbed his hand and urged him out of the arena then turned and leveled the guard with a look that could kill. "Fifty? Hah!"

An hour later, Harm and Mac were sitting in a coffee shop near the gaming place. Before leaving the pair had headed to the gift shop so that Mac could purchase a t-shirt emblazoned with "I Survived Ultrazone" plastered across her chest. "I can't believe they thought we were. . . well. . .you know." Harm motioned between the two of them and laughed. As much as he would rather enjoy. . .well. . .you know. . .with Mac, he found it absurd that anyone would do such a thing at a gaming arena of all places. While he did have an adventurous streak when it came to sex, that was pushing it.

Offended, Mac took a sip of the hot liquid and placed the mug on the table. She crossed her arms and raised a brow; a scowl wasn't too far behind. "All these years and I'm still just 'one of the guys' to you?"

"That's _not_ true." Harm defended. "You're my best friend and I don't want to lose that."

While that wasn't quite the response she'd been waiting for, the sentiment behind his words made Mac's heart swell. "I'm still your best friend after all that's happened?"

"Always. And I'll always be there for you. You know that, Mac."

"That street runs both ways."

"I know." He said with a genuine smile that made her hold on to a glimmer of hope. No matter how impossible, there was a always wishful thinking.


	4. Nothing

**Chapter 4 – Nothing.**

"Damnit!! This thing is a piece of sh..." Harm removed his cellphone from his ear and double checked the numbers on its tiny screen. Supposedly, speed dial never lied and, while it was common to hear a curse word or two from her, the slew of profanities that shot at him were very uncharacteristic of Mac. He was pretty sure she shot a few off in Farsi as well.

He placed the receiver back against his ear only to catch a few more swear words. "Mac?" This was certainly not the best of way to great her so-called _best friend_. "Mac!"

"What?!" Was her response, so loud that it forced him to remove the receiver from his ear again.

"It's Harm."

"I know who it is. Whaddaya want?" Mac very rarely was so openly rude and her demeanor was cause for concern. That and the repetitive 'thunk, thunk, thunk' sound in the background - a sound akin to a metal pipe hitting another metal pipe. "Awww, hell! Gimme a break!"

"What the hell is that noise?" Now he was really starting to worry. The noises coming from her end of the line were certainly not normal. To compound the 'thunk' sounds there was also a hissing of sorts and the definitive sound of breaking glass. "Mac? What the _hell_ is going on?"

"Plumbing!"

"Plumbing?" The word made him cringe. He recalled her last foray into waterworks that wound up running her close to $800. Normally, Mac was quite good at fixing things and even did her own tune ups on the Corvette. But, when it came to fixing domestic problems... that was another story altogether. "Want some help?"

His offer made all of the sounds, save for the hissing, stop. Mac took a breath, considered for a moment and then finally gave in. "As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I need some help. The sink doohickey broke from the pipe thingy and I think I bought the wrong sticky thing. Whatever it is smells like acetone and is giving me a headache."

Doohickey? Thingy? Those certainly weren't part of plumbing terminology. "Do you mean the P-Trap?"

"Uh. Not sure." She said and there was more cursing and 'thunking.' Mac ducked under the sink, using a flashlight to try and find if the pipe serial code had a 'P' on it. She squinted at the pipe and then swung her head over to check the opposite side. "I don't see any letters on it actually. I have no clue if the serial code starts with a _P_ or any other letter_._"

Harm sighed. "It's _not_ a letter. Its . . . you know what? I'll be over in a bit." He said and heard a loud 'whack' followed by another muffled curse. "Watch out with that pipe, I've whacked my head on it several times."

Mac cringed and rubbed the growing bump on her forehead. "Yeah, thanks."

After two hours and three trips to the local hardware store, Mac lay next to Harm, both of them under the sink, soaking wet and trying to prevent the leak from dripping further. "Mac, hand me more Teflon tape." He squinted at his burden, still unable to figure out how changing a simple trap could have become so complicated. Upon his inspection he found a crack on the threaded nut attached to the copper pipe in the wall. All attempts to fix it just made the connector leak even more.

She took the small spindle and attempted, yet again, to unravel the soft tape, which only seemed to turn into string when handled wrong. "I don't know how this thing can help anything."

Harm shrugged, "It helps with the threading, to make a seal."

"So does duct tape." Mac was starving, wet and a little cold. If it were up to her, she would have wrapped a thick amount of duct tape around the leak and call it an evening. Biting her lower lip, she tried, yet again, to get a healthy amount of Teflon off of the spindle can carefully handed it to Harm who was staring at her as if he wanted to kiss her. "What?" She asked self-consciously.

"Nothing." He lied, hiding the fact that he thought she looked absolutely adorable while she concentrated on the tape. Harm took the tape and settled into the task at hand. Carefully, he wrapped the flimsy tape around the treading and used his thumbs to smooth it into the grooves. "Okay, cross your fingers." He took the connectors and screwed them on, tightening them with the use of a vice grip. Next, Harm turned the bib, letting water back into the system. "I think it held."

"Oh, thank God." Carefully, she slid out from under the sink and helped Harm to his feet, noting, not for the first time, that he was as soaked as she was. "Good job, partner." She high-fived Harm and watched, unabashed as he began putting his tools back into a red tool box. The shirt he had on was a light blue, which had darkened, substantially due to the moisture which was also making the fabric stick to his chest.

Mac could see the outline of his hard pecks and the smoothness of his flat belly. He'd been working out a lot more since the accident, she could tell by the way his arm muscles bulged just a bit more. She'd seen him topless a few times and always admired his physique however, this time, her fingers were itching to touch. "What?" She heard him ask, snapping her from the beginnings of a reoccurring fantasy.

"Nothing. You're uh, soaked." She pointed out needlessly and motioned towards his shirt.

Harm gripped the fabric and sighed. "Yeah. So are you." He motioned at her own shirt, not quite as wet but, enough to accentuate her voluptuous curves. "I brought up my gym bag, mind if I use the head? I'll change and you can figure out what we're going to do about dinner."

Dinner? Mac was very much thinking about desert and a Harmon Rabb Junior with chocolate dripping off of him. Stifling her thoughts, she cleared her throat and smiled. "Of course, you know you don't have to ask." She admonished. "Mi casa is your casa."

"Thanks, Mac." As he disappeared into the living room, Mac studied the rest of his body, groaning at her wayward thoughts that were so inappropriate regarding your best friend. "Get a grip, MacKenzie." After putting away all of the items she had taken out in order to reach the pipes, Mac headed into her bedroom in search of a clean pair of jeans and a dry t-shirt.

She heard the shower running and figured she would have a minute or two to change before Harm came out. Mac was wrong. While she had managed to put her jeans on, they were unzipped and she definitely wasn't wearing a shirt. "Mac, can you bring me the. . ." Harm had chosen that very moment to walk out, to catch her in only jeans and a light pink bra. Unable to turn away, he stared for a moment, noting how well the fabric encapsulated each breast. It was only when she pulled the t-shirt in her hands up to cover her immodesty that Harm snapped out of it. "Uh, sorry. . .I was looking going to ask you for the vice grip. . .The uh, connector under the sink is a little old. I figured we could fix that too. I did buy two extra connectors and, it's better to use them then having to return them." He rambled and then motioned to the bathroom. "I think I'll go back in here and let you finish changing."

Mac nodded. "Good idea, thanks." He slipped back inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Harm felt like a complete idiot, what with the way he was staring at her as if he'd never seen her in less. For God's sake, he'd seen her in a bikini that left very little to the imagination. Still, there was something about finding Mac, in her bedroom, in underwear. The combination was brining back feelings he still didn't have the guts to sort through. "I'm decent." He heard her say and stepped out to find her standing in front of the vanity combing her hair.

"Sorry about that. Did you decide where we're going for dinner?" Part of him wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Another part just wanted the night to be over.

Mac just smiled at him. "Sushi sound good to you?"

"Sound great, yeah." Harm was surprised that she didn't mention his blunder or the inappropriate way he'd stared at her. "I haven't had Sushi in a while." Just like that, things were just back to normal, as if they hadn't mutually shared an awkward moment. Something just didn't sit right and Harm was mildly disappointed at the fact that Mac either didn't notice or was just ignoring him. The dance was on, yet again.


	5. Camping

Sorry for the delay on this... work gets in my way. Been too tired to sit around and write. And when I do write it's another Harm and Mac story. I hope to finish those before posting... We'll see! ;) Enjoy! Part 6 coming soon just need to re-read it. I deleted the original chapter cause I wasn't too happy with it. Hope you like this one.

**Chapter 5 - Camping.**

Finding sleep normally wasn't a problem for Harm. He was the type that could zonk out in less then ten minutes given any circumstances. Living several months aboard an aircraft carrier during flight ops made the average person more resilient to noises. He could sleep at any time of the day – something that most military operators learned from experience – or spend several days living on zero sleep and bad coffee. There was one little thing that annoyed him though; Harm _hated_ being cold.

"Harm, it's cold." He heard Mac say, several feet away from where he was laying.

"Mmm." It _was_ cold, colder than he'd imagined. The pretty meteorologist on ABC 7 said nothing about the temperatures being _this_ unbearable. Harm had tried to sleep, often that aided in warming him up some. This time, he was turning into a Popsicle. Sighing, he stared up at the tent's ceiling. Building the thing proved to be nothing but a royal pain. It had been years since he'd been camping and, although most tents were easy enough, the one he owned included two partitions that served to create 'rooms' inside of the enclosure. He was accustomed to the pros and cons of camping, as well as the sudden change in meteorological conditions. Still, he wasn't prepared to freeze!

Annoyed that she got no other response, other than his groan, Mac complained more. "I mean it, I am _freezing_ here." Inside of her sleeping bag, she tried moving her fingers only to find them rather cold and tight. "Next time, talk me out of my harebrained schemes, would ya?"

Harm chuckled. "It wasn't a harebrained scheme, Mac. . .This was a great idea." And then it rained and the temperatures plummeted. "The forecast _did_ say we were in for pleasant temperatures – perfect camping weather."

"Ugh! I'm coming over!" She declared and he could hear the sounds of rustling along with a zipper – from her sleeping bag - opening.

"What? Why?" He sat up, watching, in the darkness, as giant mass came his way. It wasn't that he didn't want her nearby but, given the current state of his awareness towards Mac, he wasn't too sure he could handle it like a gentleman.

Mac tossed the sleeping bag next to him. "I want your body heat." She said casually.

The comment had him flustered and his brain chose that particular moment to disengage. "Uh."

"Harm, wake up! You told me once something about cold weather and body heat to prevent hypothermia." She seemed annoyed as she stood there shivering.

Finally getting her meaning, he unzipped his bag and stepped out of it. "It really isn't that cold, Mac."

She watched, confused as he fully unzipped his bag so that it lay, liner side up. He then placed her bag over it. "Says you. What are you doing?"

"Joining our sleeping bags together." He proceeded to align the zippers and make one large sleeping bag – something that the two of them would comfortably fit in. "There, this should work." Harm left one end open and motioned for Mac to get in first. Following suit, he then closed up bag and settled in. The last time he'd shared body heat had been when they were running away from psychotic poachers.

It was hardly a fun camping trip and they were forced to find shelter in a cave-like opening next to a mountain, using ferns for blankets. Mac shifted next to him, trying to find a comfortable way to sleep. "You alright?"

"No." Mac sighed, grabbed her pillow and punched a few times. She'd had to sleep in worse places before, even found herself in a foxhole when the Marine bass in Bosnia came under attack. At the moment, she was still cold and uncomfortable. "Ugh, I'm still freezing."

"I can fix that. C'mere." Harm said as Mac turned to face him. His arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her close and felt the coolness of her skin though her clothing. "You really are freezing." He commented and proceeded to rub his hand briskly up and down her arm. He heard her sigh softly as she snuggled closer to him, her body practically molding to his own. "Better?"

"Yes. Thanks." Mac said, enjoying the warmth of him.

For Harm, the closeness was pure torture as he reveled in the softness of her body. For all of that bravado, she was still just a woman who needed and wanted. If only he could get her to want and need him, things would be perfect. "Night, Mac." He whispered and couldn't help but to give into temptation, if just this once. Carefully, he leaned into her, his lips brushing her own briefly.

Reeling from the sudden closeness, Mac didn't kiss him back. She merely remained still and flustered. Their endless push and pull weighing on her yet again. Frustrated, she sighed and allowed herself to drift to sleep…

. . .Bacon. Coffee. Two distinct smells that had Mac awake and ready to face the day. Sleeping in Harm's arms had made for quite the interesting night. It had taken her a good hour and a half to find sleep as her mind was running at a million miles an hour. Though it wasn't the first time they'd spent the night in such close proximity, things were different know – she was more aware of her feelings for him and that kiss that he dropped on her out of nowhere.

Carefully, she got out of the sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent. Harm was in his kitchen, pouring coffee from a glass pot and into a carafe that he placed on the bar. Two placemats were set there with silverware and glasses filled with orange juice. Near the stove she spotted a small jug of pancake mixture next to which was a bowl of chocolate chips. "That's not very campy – using the electric coffee pot."

Harm grabbed a mug and filled it nearly to the brim. If it was one thing he knew about Mac it was that her first coffee of the day was always black. Creamer and sugar were only introduced as the day progressed. He motioned for her to take a seat by the kitchen island. "It's either this or no breakfast. Besides, the 'trial camp' ended at sun up."

The suggestion of a 'trial camp' was her idea – one that Harm had laughed about and still partook. But, to Mac, the thought of roughing it made her envision a particular night, spent along the side of a mountain, with a bullet stuck in her thigh. It was the closest thing to camping that she'd experienced and wasn't willing to duplicate. Harm suggested they pitch the tent in his apartment, shut off all electrical appliances, open all of the windows and only use the light of his fireplace.

At first, it had been fun and amusing. He'd even brought out his guitar and played a few songs. As the evening went on, a loud thunderstorm rumbled outside bringing with it an extreme change in temperature. His open windows did nothing to shield them from the brisk cold and the sleeping bags they used weren't of any good quality. Harm mainly used the cheaper bags as a base inside of his smaller tent. "I had fun, at least until the cold seeped in." She said with a smile. "I think I'm up for actual camping whenever you are."

Camping, with Mac, having her all to himself. Things could get interesting, Harm though. "How about next weekend?" He proposed, mentally crossing his fingers.

Frowning, Mac shook her head. "Next weekend I'm heading to Kansas, remember?" Oh, yes. It was uncle Matt's birthday, something that she rarely missed if she was around. "What about the weekend after that?"

It was now his turn to frown. "Heading to Blacksburg that weekend. There's a vintage plane show and Pops asked me to take 'Sarah.'" He could have declined however, he'd already promised Pops.

"Well, whenever we have the chance, I guess." She shrugged and sipped her coffee, watching as he turned from her to prepare the pancakes.

Once he poured a handful of chocolate chips onto the batter cooking on skillet, Harm turned to her with a most serious look on his face. He took a deep breath and then another, wondering how he would broach the subject of that silly kiss last night. Something had compelled him to kiss her and although he really didn't expect anything in return, it bothered him that she ignored the whole thing. Even a slap would have made him happy – anything to get a feeling from her. "Mac, about that kiss. . ." He trailed off and stared down at his sock clad feet.

Thankfully she'd swallowed down the warm liquid in her mouth or else she'd have spat it all over the kitchen island. "It's nothing. . .You were saying goodnight." She declared and then mentally kicked herself for saying such a thing. Dear God, she was a complete and total idiot around him.

Harm felt his ego take one hell of a dip at her words. While he knew that wasn't they type of kiss to woo a woman, it meant something to him. And she just played it off as a goodnight kiss between friends? Sighing, he glanced up at her and nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

His own response hurt. She'd hoped that he would clarify his intentions after her stupid comment. "Your pancake is burning." She said suddenly, motioning to the stove.

"Shit!" Quickly, he tended to the flapjack, wrinkling his nose as he tossed it into the garbage can. "I'm glad I mixed plenty of batter." Harm said triumphantly as he began to work on a fresh pancake. "You know, you could come with me to the air show." He suggested as he finished with one and then added more batter to the skillet.

Mac considered him for the moment. The thoughts of going up on a plane with him weren't exactly wonderful. However, she had to admit that the first hour or so had been a hoot and something that she'd dreamed about several times. While part of her was afraid, the other was excited to ride in 'Sarah' again. "You know. As crazy as it sounds, I wouldn't mind you teaching me to fly."

Harm stilled his hands and turned slowly as he leveled her with a glare. "_You?_ Fly?"

She nodded enthusiastically, the idea seeming more and more enticing. "Sure, why not? You're a great pilot. I'm sure you could teach me to fly in no time. That is, assuming you want to."

"Yeah. I do." He said a little too quickly, the thoughts of spending more time with her consuming him by the minute. "I was only going up the day of the show but, we can make a weekend out of it. Leave here Friday. . ."

". . .Play hooky on Monday?" She supplied for him, grinning as his smile widened. "Just make sure we don't piss off any poachers this time, okay?"

Harm placed his hand, fingers wrapped around a spatula. "I swear not to piss off any poachers." He said solemnly and added, "And I swear to examine every single nut and bolt on the plane before take off."

"Deal." Mac chuckled at his pledge and extended her hand for him to shake it.


	6. Little Green Monster

Nope haven't forgotten about this. Sadly, this is not the original Chapter 6. That one has gone to file Heaven along with other things that my computer managed to snatch away from me. Grrrrr. Anyway. Because it's been a while Posting 6 and 7 back to back. There is a 8 in the works and maybe a 9/10. After that, not sure... working on about three separate stories at once. Just going through some exhaustion (work) and writers block from Hell. Plus, zero time for too much.

Anyway, one story is an alternate Season 9 that does not start out as H&Mless as the real Season 9 did. The other story is majorly AU: Harm goes to Fly at the end of Season 4 but is shot down over Yugoslavia and doesn't return for four years. Once he does, things are VERY different. Both are shipper stories. ;)

On another note, jump on Facebook, the Internet and Twitter and search around - there's a petition going on for a JAG Movie. Whether you agree on it or not, sign it. Good, bad or ugly, I would love to see CB, DJE and crew reprising their roles.

Mistakes are my own... Enjoy.

Jackie

**Chapter 6 - Little Green Monster.**

Mac prided herself on not being the jealous type – alright, so she prided herself on not overtly showing off her jealous side. Somehow, she'd managed to hide away the little green monster until recently. Although she'd held back any and all verbal snipes at the women hitting on him, their actions had bothered her more than ever. Just like it bothered her to see the long legged blond leaning against 'Sarah.'

Blondie was wearing Daisy Duke Shorts and a 'v' neck, sleeveless tee than plunged down just a half inch short of indecent. The woman's legs were wrapped in the dark, brow suede of her boots that came up to her knees. She wore aviator glasses, deep red lipstick and her locks had a naturally sun kissed tone. Harm was standing in front of her, arms crossed and engaged in some sort of amusing conversation. He tilted his head back in laughter oblivious to the other guests of the air show that had stopped to admire his biplane.

When Blondie placed her hand on Harm's forearm, Mac let out an audible groan and fought the urge to hop in her 'Vette and head on home. She wasn't sure what to expect for the weekend, they still weren't clear on the status of their relationship but, after he'd planted her with a kiss almost two weeks ago, she'd expected a little more from him. To be fair, they had barely seen each other, one case had sent her to Coronado while another sent him to the USS Tarawa. Their only contact had been via-e-mail and two phone calls, one of which gave her the details about the air show.

Frowning, Mac stared at the pair a little longer and then stiffened her spine. She flung her leather jacket over her shoulder and walked purposely towards her partner. Without excusing herself, Mac stepped up to Harm and gave him a kiss on the cheek. To Mac's surprise, his interest in Blondie faded immediately as he wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Glad you could make it." He said, releasing her from his embrace, yet keeping a hand wrapped around her waist.

Inwardly, he let out a deep breath, thanking the Heaven's that Mac had made an appearance sooner than later. The blonde he was speaking to was the wife of one of the other plane owners and, obviously, not the faithful kind. She'd been speaking with him for the last half hour, dropping all kinds of innuendos and making him completely uncomfortable. He'd tried to get away from her twice but, she was stalking him like prey. "Mac, this is Vicki. . .Her husband owns the Corsair." He motioned to a dark blue, bent wing, prop plane with a checkered design near its nose and a star next to the word 'MARINES' emblazoned to the rear. "Rick, her _husband . . ._" Harm emphasized, ". . . told me that his grandfather flew one during WWII."

"That's right." Almost out of nowhere an attractive, Ken-like gentleman came to stand next to Vicki. "Gramps had a confirmed 7 kills. Two of which were Kamikaze Zeros." While his arm had encircled his wife's waist, Rick's eyes were in the process of undressing Mac. "Harm says you're a Marine."

The way he said the word made Mac remember Harm's amusing comment about Female Marine's and Energizer bunnies. This time Harm himself was _not _amused. He held onto Mac almost possessively and shot daggers at the other man. "She's a Lieutenant Colonel, pistol expert, rifle expert. Hell, Mac can take apart and put back together an AK in fifty seconds." He rambled off as if that little bit of knowledge would intimidate the other man.

"So, you gonna take me for a ride or what?" Vicki asked Harm, the double entendre making him wish that the Earth would swallow him whole.

Mac was finding the whole interaction a little amusing. "Actually, he's taking _me_ flying. He even promised to let me hold his stick." She shot off her own crude comment and then took Harm's hand and pulled him away from the odd couple. "C'mon, I wanna see the other planes before I have you all to myself."

"Thanks for the rescue." He said, once they were out of earshot.

"Not a problem." Mac said with a chuckle.

"Did you think I was actually interested in her?"

"No." Mac replied smoothly as she stopped in front of a white Antonov An-2.

"_No_?" Her answer hit him like a ton of bricks. There he was, chatting a little too nicely with another woman and Mac wasn't the least bit concerned? "We were talking for a while. A loooong while. Vicki knows a lot about planes." He said in a wistful manner, hoping that maybe, perhaps, Mac would show some sort of interest.

"If I didn't know you better, Harm, I'd say you were _trying_ to make me jealous." She hid the smirk when he just stood there staring, mouth open as he tried to formulate a response.

"Well, it's just. . .I ah. . .Didn't. . .didn't like how Rick was ogling you." He fumbled and continued, "It was disrespectful."

His actions made her smile. "And I didn't like the way that Vicki was ogling you." Sighing, she began walking down the line again, over to the next airplane. "You're a good man, Harm. You deserve the _right_ woman." She said, once he fell in step with her. "You and I are too old to play games."

As far as he was concerned, the right woman was walking next to him. "And who is this _right_ woman, Mac? Is she out there?"

Mac knew who she wanted that right woman to be however, she wasn't too sure he still felt the same way. "I'm sure she is." _And I'm waiting for you. _She added mentally.

Harm considered that comment, wondering if Mac was referring to herself or someone else. If he remembered correctly, this time, he was the one waiting on her. How did things get so damned complicated? "What about you, Mac? Do you have the _right_ man waiting for you."

"I'm sure I do." She replied, with a little less enthusiasm than he'd hoped for. Just the fact that he had to ask made her feel a little empty inside. Maybe if she draped all over Harm like Vicki he would get it. _Probably not_. She thought, not wanting to seem desperate. Mac wasn't willing to give up on them but, her will power was coming under attack.

"He might be closer than you think." He threw out, staring at her longingly. The sounds of a plane flying overhead muffled his words. Harm wanted to make her understand but, wasn't sure how. He tried spending as much time as possible with her, hoping to rebuild their fractured relationship. Was that even working at all? "Ready to fly?"

Mac turned to face him, a slight look of trepidation on her facial features. "As ready as I'll ever be." She didn't like flying and doubted that this little trip would help much at all. While Mac trusted him, their previous experience in 'Sarah' was still fresh in her mind.

Harm draped an arm over her shoulders and urged her towards the Steerman. "I promise, no poachers this time." He joked and mentally hoped that would be true.


	7. I Didn't Know

**Chapter 7 – I Didn't Know.**

Harm shifted from foot to foot, his fingers digging into his collar as he tried to create a little breathing space. He smoothed the front of his jacket and then adjusted his bowtie before knocking on Mac's door. Seconds later, she pulled the door open. "You're early." Mac said with a smile and pulled back the door to allow him to step inside. "Come on in. I still have to put on the jewelry."

But, he couldn't move, instead Harm stood rooted in place, staring at her as if he'd never seen her in a dress. Then again, this wasn't just any dress. The gown Mac was wearing was olive green, with a low v-neck accentuated by sparkling jewels that ran along the neckline. When she turned from him, Mac revealed the back side of the gown with it's sexy open back and intricate, beaded, butterfly design that swept just to where her hips were. The material caressed her backside as she walked and left him wondering if he was meant to live a cursed life forever. He had the most rotten luck when it came to her.

"What is it?" She asked, returning with two long, velvet boxes. "Something wrong with the dress?" She fingered the material self consciously and looked over her shoulder as if to see that something was out of place.

"You look. . . .stunning." He stammered and finally felt his brain engage long enough to move him into her apartment.

"Thanks but, this isn't the first time you've seen me in a dress." Mac said as she walked past Harm and closed the door behind him. He looked damn good in formal wear. The jacket accentuated his chest and broad shoulders.

"True. . .But, it's the first time you've dressed up for. . ." Harm stopped himself from saying something incredibly stupid. ". . .to go out with me." And he still managed to say something idiotic. His date for the night wasn't the woman standing across from him. "At least for the moment."

Mac sighed and her disappointment showed. Had he taken the initiative she would have been available and been his date. She'd dropped hints that he didn't pick up on and finally decided to ask him herself. She was a modern woman that knew what she wanted. Unfortunately, the day she brought up the courage to wear her heart on her sleeve again another woman had gotten in the way – a woman that the Admiral had forced onto him - flirty, beautiful and blonde – all of the facets that described his former girlfriends. "I'm not your date Harm. You know that I'm meeting Andy at the ball."

He knew yet, he hoped that it wasn't true. Lt. Col Andrew 'Andy' Jorde was a genuinely good guy. Harm and Andy, while not on the same squadron, had bumped into each other during several tours, bantering back and forth as aviators do. As much as Harm wanted to hate the other man, there wasn't much too hate, except the fact that Andy had asked Mac to the Navy/Marine Corps Ball. The two had met in Bosnia and held a platonic relationship. It was a deposition at JAG Ops and a new billet with the Pentagon that caused Andy to bump into Mac again – much to Harm's dismay.

So, he was stuck taxing the woman that he loved so that she could meet another man. Life really was depressing and he had to be the biggest moron in the world. Harm had a chance to ask her to the ball but, it just never seemed like the right time or place. In reality, part of him figured that she would just go with him – as she had several times before when they were both without a significant other. And then the Admiral had shoved him with Cynthia - flirty, beautiful and blonde – the daughter of a three star, recent divorcee and absolutely annoying. In truth, he really couldn't blame Mac for being someone else's date. "Why isn't he picking you up again?"

Mac shrugged. "He's going to be late getting there. Late request from his CO."

Harm hoped the other man wouldn't show and that, for some reason, his own date wouldn't make the ball either. "Let's get going, Mac. We're going to be late." At least he didn't have to pick up Cynthia, she was traveling to the ball with her father.

"Wait, help me with the necklace." She handed him the box and turned her back to him.. It gave Harm a moment to gaze at her form and just how good she looked that night. Yes, he had seen her in a dress before but, there was something different. He knew what he felt for her now and detested the thought of another mans hand's on her body.

Harm tried to calm his thoughts as his fingers brushed her skin. This close to her, he could smell a seductive scent; a mixture of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, perfume and Mac. It was spicy and sweet at the same time and would likely bring Andy to his knees. "All set." He said, clasping the delicate piece in place. He resisted the urge to kiss the curve of her neck which was exposed and so damned tantalizing.

"One more piece." She turned to him with a smile and handed a smaller box with the matching bracelet. "I can never get this damned thing clasped." She held the bracelet as he fumbled with the clasp; the touch making her shiver. "Thanks." Mac said and snatched her hand back as soon as he was done. "Let's go."

The ride to the banquet hall was very silent and tense. Neither of them wanted to speak about much of anything and both of them were hoping the evening would end sooner than later. Almost immediately upon arrival, Mac was whisked by Andy who was showing her off to his squadron buddies. Harm had his hands full trying to evade Cynthia's advancements. ."Soooo, you're a Lieutenant? That's nice."

Inwardly, he was screaming.. "Commander. Lieutenant has two bars." Though she'd been raised in a military home and was formerly married to a Marine Captain, the woman didn't understand an inkling of any type of rank much less the different branches of the military.

"Daddy says you're a pilot for the Coast Gaurds?" She'd been attracted to Harm right off the bat and had been trying, for the last hour, to cozy up to him as much as possible – aka: throw herself on him like a cheap suit.

"Navy. Actually, I'm a lawyer for the JAG Corps. I don't fly as much as I used to." He admitted, hoping to make some sort of chit chat as he was sharing a table with Chegwidden, Meredith and Cynthia's parents.

"I'm sure I can help you fly." She whispered as she snuck a hand under the table cloth and placed it on Harm's thigh. "I'll put in a good word."

"I don't need help, thanks." As much as he enjoyed female companionship and, perhaps, make Mac jealous in the long run, the tradeoff wasn't worth this kind of torture. He brushed her hand away and moved his chair enough to get an inch or two between them. From his table, he could see Mac, seated no more than twenty feet away along with Andy and his squadron buddies. Her back was to him and from this vantage he could see Andy getting close, whispering things that were making her laugh.

It was a requirement to sit through dinner and hear speech after boring speech before being allowed to escape. After dancing one waltz with Cynthia, he made himself scarce, choosing to make himself busy by chatting with other officers. At the edge of the dance floor, an interesting conversation between himself, Bud, Sturgis and Chegwidden, dissolved into background fodder as Mac and Andy caught his attention. They were dancing to a slow number, swaying back and forth in unison. Mac's head rested on his shoulder as Andy's arms encircled her frame. The scene was too much for him to bear and Harm stepped out of the French doors and onto the balcony, nursing a double shot of bourbon.

He leaned against the balustrade, staring out into the distance where he could see the top of Washington's Monument - the bright spotlights from below illuminating its marble. Harm wanted out of this disastrous night but knew he could not disappear without a good explanation that he did not have. After all, the party had only been going on for a little more than two hours. Sighing, he took a drink of his bourbon, savoring the liquid as it ran down his throat. He hoped to hide out there until someone came looking for him.

The sound of heels clicking on the brick below stilled him. No doubt Cynthia had followed with the intent of continuing to woo him. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself." He heard a familiar voice say and turned to find Mac standing behind him. The clicking of her heels echoed in his head as she came to stand by his side. Mac turned around and leaned against the railing, facing the festivities. She could clearly see the look on his face now and noted how one of his fingers ran around the brim of a half-full glass of bourbon. "If you didn't want to come, you could have said so. I would have just driven myself."

He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the party with trepidation and still hoping that Cynthia would not send out a search party. "It's not like I had a choice. . .Where's Andy?"

"Gone. One of the men under his command got into trouble. He's hoping to bail the kid out before things get more serious." She said, waiting for a reaction – a sigh, a groan – something that would tell her that it mattered to him; that she mattered to him. "Harm, what's going on with you?"

Harm took a breath, partially grateful that, at the very least, he wouldn't have to see them dancing together anymore. "I was hoping our dates wouldn't have shown and I'd have you to myself."

Mac was upset by his admission. In the weeks leading up to the event, she'd hinted – not so subtlety – that a date would not be in the works. "Or, you could have asked me to be your date."

He felt like a total moron now that she verbalized the same thing that passed through his mind. "You're right, I should have." After downing what was left of the bourbon, he placed the empty glass on a table nearby. "I figured we'd wind up going together anyway. Like we usually do."

She couldn't believe the assumptions that he continued to make in her regard. Yes, they had driven together to several events but, they were hardly what one would consider a 'date.' Most of the time he was busy schmoozing with other women and she spent the functions dancing with anyone who asked. They'd had fun and he'd always driven her home but, that's all it was, transportation. "You know what, Harm? I'm _still_ sick of this dance between the two of us."

"Me, too."

"Then why is it still going on?" She asked, her tone demanding. Mac was beyond tired and the past few weeks have served nothing more than to stoke the flames that she'd tried so hard to bury. It was clear to her that they weren't meant to be with anyone else. But, why did they keep fighting each other? She could no longer live with their constant banter. The looks and innuendos were akin to junk food – a pleasure that was somewhat filling but, never healthy.

"I don't know." Harm huffed and rested against the railing, arms folded across his chest. "The night that Mic left, I thought everything would finally be right between us. I mean, you _knew _how I feel about you, then. . .And still." He trailed off, stopping to gather his thoughts before he said something stupid. He gripped the railing, knuckles turning white from the force. Why the hell did this woman have the right to throw him so far off kilter? "You left. We agreed to talk it out and _you_ left. Went to the middle of nowhere and then refused to speak to me." There were things that they needed to say, issues to clear up. But, for the last year, he felt as if he were treading water – wrestling down these deep feelings in order not to rock the boat too much. "I know I've done some stupid things in regards to you but, you knew how I felt. . .You _know_ how I feel." Finally, he whirled, facing her with a steely, unrecognizable look.

Mac could only stare back, wondering if he'd lost this mind. Men, she thought, could be so dense when it came to women. She figured that, in the time that they'd known each other, he'd have inkling as to how she operated. "No, Harm. I _don't_ know how you feel." She hoped and prayed but, there was no definitive way of knowing. Not when he spoke in codes and riddles, or when his actions dictated something else. "No woman wants to be a mind reader and my decoder ring has, long since, stopped working in regards to you." She tried to joke, hoping to soften the blow, if it ever came to another all out battle between them. Mac had resigned herself to not having him as a lover but, if she lost him as a friend, it was a weight too big to bear.

"Didn't we say enough the night of your engagement party?" He took a few steps, stopping just inches in front of her. Harm was scared, knowing that he was delivering his heart on a platter. The last time he'd admitted his feelings, she still went on to marry Mic. Fate had saved him then and hoped it would save him now. "I love you, Mac. And you love me too, I think. . .Why we can't make this work is beyond me." She said softly and then turned away from her, weighing an option that he didn't want to commit to. "Maybe we should just stop this and save what's left of our friendship."

Her heart was beating out a staccato so hard that it made her shake. Harm's words were echoing in her ears. The realization that he'd finally given her all she ever wanted, struck home with the force of an atom bomb. Harm loved her and, obviously, had for quite some time. The concept made her feel alive for the first time in months. She was elated, scared and expectant all at the same time. Her world, which had been spinning uncontrollably since they first met at the Rose Garden, had finally ceased its rotation. He loved _her_. Harm _loved_ her. And he was right, she loved him. She'd loved him for years.

The lack in response, made all of his expectations disappear in the wind. He'd overstepped a boundary that was never meant to be crossed. This was the reason why either of them were to anxious to admit their feelings. Deep inside, they both feared rejection and what it would do to their friendship. Backpedaling, he began trying to salvage whatever was left. "Maybe we should dance, or something. It might help me get rid of Cynthia . . .mmmm." He was on the verge of rambling uncontrollably when he felt Mac's lips on his own.

It was a soft kiss, gentle and painfully sweet. She broke it first, leaving him wanting more and hoping the encounter would last just a little longer. "I _do_ love you, Harm. I've loved you for years. . . In Australia, when you pushed me away, I thought it was unrequited. From that time on, I guess I gave up on us." She needed him to know what had happened that night in Sydney harbor. On that ferry ride he'd crushed her heart into a zillion pieces and left them scattered in the bay. Accepting Mic's offer had seemed like a sensible thing for a woman who couldn't have the man she loved. In a way, Mic had taken advantage of her raw feelings. Then again, she hadn't put up much of a fight. "I still want you though. I wanna give this a chance."

For the first time in his life, Harm felt a deep happiness, elation close to what I was like to be a child on Christmas morning. "I'm glad you said that, Mac." With that, he pulled her to him, his hands snaking around her waist as they kissed. Mac wrapped her arms around his neck, holding them so tightly together that she could feel the hard planes of his body against her. Her soft moans sent waves of joy crashing over him as her body molded to his own. They kissed unabashed, forgetting the open doors which lead to the party. So oblivious were they that neither Harm nor Mac noticed the figure by the door.

Always one to make his presence known, Chegwidden cleared his throat as he stepped closer to the pair. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" He didn't glance at the two officers, merely stared out into the night. From the corner of his eye he found that they'd separated like children who'd been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. When neither responded to his comment, he merely turned on his heal and said, "Carry on."

The pair watched as their commanding officer walked away to the open arms of Meredith who'd also been privy to their interaction. "Did our commanding officer just give us the OK to make out?" Harm asked. He'd always assumed that Chegwidden would not be the happiest of sorts had he and Mac ever crossed that line.

"Yep." Mac sighed, relieved that there was one less bridge to cross in terms of a relationship. She licked her lips and smiled at the warm look in Harm's eyes. "C'mon sailor, it's time to take me home." She kissed him once more and then took his hand, motioning for him to follow.

Harm stood still, pulling her back to him. "Home? Dontcha think we're moving a little fast?"

"After six years of foreplay? No, I don't. . .Besides, I said you could _take_ me home, I didn't say you could stay over." She teased, making him chuckle. Harm watched her walk away amused at how easily a horrible night could turn into the best one of his life.


End file.
